


In the Middle of the Arbor Wilds

by withaflourish



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Drabble, Established Relationship, F/M, Fluff, One Shot, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-04
Updated: 2015-06-04
Packaged: 2018-04-02 18:31:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 523
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4070215
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/withaflourish/pseuds/withaflourish
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Go ahead Inquisitor, we’ll handle the rest of them!"</p>
<p>Evelyn Trevelyan runs into Cullen right before she enters the Temple of Mythal. Because that one line of ambient dialogue just wasn't enough.</p>
            </blockquote>





	In the Middle of the Arbor Wilds

**Author's Note:**

> Warning for vague gore references and violence.

“Go ahead Inquisitor, we’ll handle the rest of them!”

Evelyn’s heart leapt up into her throat as she heard the familiar voice of her Commander among the clashing of swords and the eerie shrieking of Red Templars. “Handle them? Like hell you will,” she muttered under her breath as she signaled her companions forward into the river. She shifted into stealth and dove into the fray, daggers whirling. 

This time, however, it was hard to get lost in the flow of the movements, hard to call out orders to her companions – ”need a barrier here, Solas!” – when all she wanted to do was constantly check over her shoulder to make sure Cullen was okay.  _Don’t be a fool, he’s been in more battles than you have; Andraste’s ass, he’s the Commander of the damn Inquisition!_ She bit her lip and redoubled her focus as she marked her next victim. 

She sliced the throat of the last Red Templar with a little more emphasis than was probably necessary and kicked the body down. “Everyone okay?” she asked firmly, scanning the soldiers around her with a cursory sweep of her eyes (she may have let a small breath of relief escape when she glanced at Cullen, covered in blood that wasn’t his own, but no one else noticed). 

Cullen stepped forward. “We can hold this point and deal with any stragglers who try to follow you, Inquisitor,” he reported. She nodded, and she knew that she should go into that damn Temple to find Corypheus and that Cullen would be fine and that she would be fine and – well, no, she didn’t actually know any of that, did she? She didn’t know when she’d next see this man. This man who was resilient and brave and far too earnest for his own good, who’d made her laugh and held her at her lowest and kept her human and real and more than just the Anchor on her hand. There was a chance that she might never see him again. 

“Maker’s breath”, she muttered, and she stepped forward and dragged him towards her by the shoulders of his plate mail and kissed him, hard and rough and desperate.  _I want to come back I will come back please come back too_ , she promised with her lips and tongue and teeth. He kissed back just as rough, a little bit sloppy from exhaustion but so overflowing with feeling that all she could hear was the blood rushing through her ears and her heart beating a steady rhythm of  _yes yes yes_. 

All too soon, she pulled away, gesturing to her companions that it was time to move on. As she ran off toward the entrance of the Temple, she could hear the hooting and hollering of the soldiers, and she could imagine the bright shade of pink her Commander was turning at that very moment. 

Poor Cullen, she’d have to make it up to him later (because there would be a later, no matter what it took). 

_At the very least,_  she thought as a wide grin spread across her face, _that display was good for morale._


End file.
